Do You Feel Brave?
by Skull Bearer
Summary: Shadows and darkness of the Dark Order.


Do you feel Brave?  
  
It was so dark you couldn't see a thing. So dark that if you put your hand up you couldn't see it. Mixed with the darkness was a cloying scent, that of an abandoned library, you could taste it on your tongue and the endless silence was a hum in your ears.  
  
Not what you expected, eh?  
  
What else did you expect, in this place? Light? No place for that here. People? Why? Did you really expect spluttering candles and the tromp of boots in this place?  
  
But ah, you reach out to find the walls, feeling your way blindly, the blackness of the room (or corridor, you can't tell) has swallowed up any attempt at breaking it. Eyes open, eyes shut, it makes no difference.  
  
You stumble blindly, holding onto one wall as you wander on. You do not dare admit it, but you are lost. You were supplied with a map but what use is a map without light to read it by? But still you walk, blind courage driving you down yet another corridor (how many has it been now, three? four?) the darkness drinking in the noise of your footfalls and labored breathing.  
  
You feel suffocated by the lack of light, you curse as you catch your foot on a carpet and fall, what use is a carpet here, you wonder, when there are none to admire it and no light to glimpse it by? You pick yourself up and reach for the walls, jerking back in shock when you feel fabric under your fingertips. A curtain? No, a wall hanging, what is the point of that? you muse, feeling the fabric once more under your fingertips. Pressing on, you feel as it you are pushing against the dark, pushing against an intangible barrier, your growl of frustration is hungrily devoured by the silence.  
  
Empty rooms, empty corridors. No food or drink. You pull out a water bottle and drink deeply, then spit it out in horror. You cannot see the scarlet liquid running down your face or the thick splatter of your canteen as it spills over the floor, dying the bare stone red. You retch dryly, leaning against the wall, then reach into your pack for food to wash the foul taste away. Breads of bone and meats of stone, that is all you find.  
  
You give a scream that is devoured by the silence instantly and flee into the darkness wildly, only stopping when you run into a wall. Whimpering in fear you slide down it, clamping your hands over you ears and rocking slowly, trying to find comfort in cold stone and black air.  
  
You sleep there in fear and blindness, and dream of security and friendship. You awaken into a nightmare, but berate your self your weakness and set off again. There is no change in the area, just stone and silence (have you been here before?). You fumble your way on, thirsty and hungry and blind, no longer sure what you're looking for, the owner of this place, or a way out. Each would be equally welcome to you.  
  
Hunger and thirst are your only companions for this quest (is it a quest, or mere foolishness?) and they are diligent. You lie to rest yet again, unsure of the number of passageways you have explored this day, and are hassled by the empty ache in your belly and the pain in your throat. You dream again of home.  
  
You awaken and rise slowly to your feet (how long have you been down here? Two days? Three? Four?) and walk on, rest has give you no refreshment and you feel as tired as you did when you lay down. Finally, you admit defeat and turn to go back.  
  
Ah, you forgot, didn't you? Or did you never let yourself think it? You are lost in the endless depths of these tunnels, you do not now how to go back. All the same you turn to go back the way you have come, hands outstretched to feel your way. Your progress is slower today, your backpack seems to be weighing you down (you thought it was empty), you throw it off but find no respite.  
  
Each step is an effort, each breath scratches your dry throat, you dream of slaking your hunger and thirst, outside it must be raining, cool water to soothe your throat and balm your stone torn hands. In desperation you claw at the wall's unyielding stone, before slumping against it.  
  
None of your attempts at lighting were successful, yet you try again. The matches break, the lighter snaps, and the flint fails to spark. You brush your hand overt your eyes to make sure they are open.  
  
It is only when you lie down that you admit that you are lost, speaking out loud in fruitless hope of breaking the silence. You have no memory of this place and no idea of where to turn. Then you realize you are speaking to yourself, you feel embarrassed, are you going mad? Of course not, the silence is just a little oppressing, that's all (isn't it?).  
  
You have lost track of time as well as direction, and are now filled with desperation. You attempt to read the map by feeling the ink on the paper, and when this fails you tear it in half, enraged by your failure. The darkness seems to mock you as yet again you try and make a little light, by burning the torn map. You imagine you can see faces dancing in the dark (hideous, half melted face, with eyes pits of shadow and faces ashen gray), grinning, maddened with glee at you predicament. You shake this picture away and try to sleep, but the disembodied faces hunt you when you close you eyes, before chasing you through your dreams.  
  
You awaken and the faces are still there, you tell yourself they are not real, but your eyes argue with you. You leap up and flee once again through the dark as in your dream (is this a dream?), you impact with a wall and fall over, backing you until you are pressed against it, shaking and crying with terror like a child. The faces close in, their ethereal laughter ringing and echoing it your ears. They come closer, voices louder, closer, louder, closer, louder-  
  
You let out a wailing shriek and clamp your hands over your eyes. It makes no difference, the faces are still there, even closer now, you press your hands deeper, scratching at your face, you ignore the pain, any thing to make the faces go away...anything....  
  
I can see you as you howl madly at empty air and tear at your face with your nails. Your eyes are already gone, now blood filled pits where you have ripped them out. I can see you as you bang your head repeatedly against unyielding stone, trying to block out the mocking laughter that dwells in your own mind. I am the master of this place and my madness, which you came here to stop, is naught to yours now. I have followed you and watched as sanity left you, and now, when you cower before me, irrevocably insane, I ask you, letting my words echo inside your maddened mind, I ask you as I asked when you were in second year: "Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
That was THE scariest thing I ever wrote, I scare myself sometimes. Tell me if this spooked you out too, please, if you flame, do sign in. Signing yourself as '.' or :( or nothing is just sad. I own as much Harry Potter as the average housefly, I also own less than the average housefly, so all you will get is some tatty Harry Potter books, an old Christmas tree, and a pissed off author. 


End file.
